


main character metaphor

by starsucka



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsucka/pseuds/starsucka
Summary: i normally hate writing but i really like how my college essay turned out so i wanted to put it down to look back on in the future (or for any of my friends who’d like to see it)
Kudos: 1





	main character metaphor

It’s hard being the main character. Everyone knows this because everyone is the main character of their own respective stories. But as with the vast variety of literature there is to consume, everyone’s stories are different; diverse both in the way they’re told/written, and what they contain. Some are scripted neatly with quills and ink pots onto tea-stained stationary whilst others are scrawled haphazardly with near-dried ballpoint pens onto sticky notes. Some are languidly recorded with a typewriter, deliberate to avoid misspellings—some hastily jotted down in the notes app of a phone to avoid losing fleeting inspiration. I’m the latter, born a “tortured artist” (note the sarcasm) into the Age of Technology, making me the person I am today...for better or for worse.

For such a weak design, I’ve had quite a lot to carry since my family immigrated from Vietnam. The oldest and only girl of three Asian-American children, I was excellent in my academics before a new interest led me astray. School became debilitating alongside visual art—juggling wasn’t (and still isn’t) really in my skill set. Balancing expectations and personal fulfillment became tricky when the pedestal I’d been placed on started to shake under the weight of learning too much. It was overwhelming, the amounts of information I now had to carry on my conscience; learning that I couldn’t fail my parents, my teachers, my friends; the pretty image of a smart and elegant Asian role model young lady who knew when to part her lips was perfect compared to a clumsy and boorish brat who didn’t know when to shut her trap. Incidentally, depression took me to both ends of the spectrum.

I’ve been too giggly and talkative for my own good—I’ve also been too distant and trapped inside my own head. It’s lonely fighting a losing battle by yourself; it’s lonely pushing away side characters that want to become your allies. Lashing out at my parents and little brothers was such an overused trope when I could have easily stopped writing my story. I could have ripped up the upcoming pages, ended the chapters prematurely...but good books take time. It was too soon—I hate rushed endings and I refused to let myself become one (at least not without a fight.) Exposition is always tedious but it was the right choice to catch the readers up on the lore. Our family wasn’t big on sharing feelings but it’s not like I’d never disputed tradition before. That story arc was full of ups and downs (writing isn’t really my strong suit but boy, do I sure progress a plot), and I was fortunate enough to conclude it with a happy ending.

Learning academically was still a total thorn in my side—but learning in other areas of my life turned out even more beneficial for me. I learned how to properly express my emotions; to talk to my parents and brothers without it turning into a screaming match; to let people into my less-than perfect realities. Fixing my relationships took me to therapy and then I got even luckier to be medicated. I no longer woke up to days where I wish I hadn’t at all. Before, it was just impersonal philosophies that kept me going..and then, I got to really build my own. I used to continue creating, to keep pushing out my story for the people who care about me but now, I can get back to the original purpose: writing for myself and for my own enjoyment. Sometimes, it feels like that sad arc never ended—sometimes there are days when the pages drone on too long even if you’ve just written a sentence or you can’t stand how bright the pages are and how they seem to mock you. But now, sometimes—much better and more often than before—you’ve never been more grateful for those mornings where sunlight streams in through the curtains and sticks around for the rest of the day to warm your pages and highlight what you’ve written so far.

Writing is a personal thing but to tell your story is another. Only a boring story would have no enemies, no problems to solve, no lasting consequences. A main character can’t be one without struggle, no matter how different it looks for each. Above all else, I didn’t kill off my main character too soon because I wanted to be there for others just like me. Sharing my story never gets any less terrifying but what protagonist doesn’t step out of their comfort zone? I share my story to let others like me know that they are not alone; that whether the villains in their head keep putting them down or continuously beating them, victory is never an impossible option. An arc/chapter ending doesn’t always have to end badly. Help is real and help is out there. Good books take time to develop but they can’t do that without their main characters.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! thank you for reading it at all, honestly. lots of love xoxo gigi


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